momquest: a quest for moms

[farfromgrace]

[ It's another day in Tokyo-D, and the relentless cycle of content generation for the masses goes on; how long have you been filming this drama, exactly? And it's not that it's a bad show, per se, but the fact that it's really dedicated to showing the gritty realities of combat and using practical effects for it is... kind of a lot.

Also it can't decide if it wants to be a show about frenemies or about enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies. Cowards.

And besides, it's not home, is it?

It occurs to you on break at the really honestly lackluster buffet table set up for the actors and any surviving extras that... there's really not that much security on this show, all things considered, unless there's something you're not seeing... ]

Comments

[farfromgrace]

[ the bark of Juniper Tree responds to your call, and begins to cover the skin of your arm, and then—stops, abruptly, halfway up. Nightingale summons a breeze for a moment, but it's charged with that same sort of crackling static feeling that makes the hair of your arms stand on end.

you also, in the middle of experimenting with all this, become aware that there's definitely people walking briskly, coming toward you from some direction, talking in a way that sounds like they're agitated. ]

[worthathousand]

[ That settles it: like hell (ha) is she getting escorted back like a naughty child.

So whatever she's got will have to do. Amaranth call up the breeze again, stepping into the petals as she does—and uses it like a small personal chariot: staying low to the ground in case somehow this fails her too, but going far faster than she could on her own two feet.

...And she flies off down the first new side-street she can find—whatever is heading further away from the over-bright main street. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ staying low to the ground is a good idea, it turns out; the wind keeps dying out, leaving her feet skidding across the pavement before it starts back up again, sometimes too strong in a way that threatens to pull her feet out from under her.

unfortunately all streets in liar hell are an over-bright neon dream. how anyone thinks this is akin to yu-shan is deeply unclear, honestly. but there are less-busy streets, at least, even if you turn some heads and elicit some murmurs and in some cases some shouts as you pass.

Ahead, there's a number of little shops, cafés, a sign that points the direction to the train between Delphi and Vengeance. a store selling those "television" display screens in the window might catch your attention with—well, your face, actually, briefly, since it's playing bits of what you recognize as Imeeji Idol Productions as you pass—it must be re-runs, from the uncomfortably-familiar, perky introduction from the pigtailed host:

"Clasp your hands in prayer, hope real hard, and maybe you'll get a front row seat—" ]

[worthathousand]

Mela's tits.
[ This is starting to be genuinely concerning.

Once it feels like she's put enough distance between herself and where she started, she pauses; lets the wind fade fully, consoling herself with the fact that, if anything, she's attracting more attention with flashy powers. And apparently if she stops using them, she can just start claiming to be a Demeter impersonator.

So now she's walking. It's high time she found herself some corner to really properly figure out what's wrong with her. If there's not anything resembling a little gacha alley like she found before, she'll head for one of the little cafés. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ there is an easily-found alley with vending machines, and, yes, more gatcha. liar hell loves gatcha. (liar hell is also significantly tidier than vengeance; on one hand, you can't hide behind large garbage, on the other hand you don't have to hide behind garbage. ]

1/2

[worthathousand]

[ ....Does the gacha take imeeji points as currency....

—No, there absolutely is not time for that. She takes a few deep breaths, centering herself as she eyes her reflection in the glass of the machine.

Treat it like any other training: break down the motions until she knows them by heart. It's stupid to go looking for trouble if she's not prepared to defend herself once she finds it. ]

[worthathousand]

[ She begins with a few twirls of the naginata—both to put herself at ease with the familiarity of it (they could not take this from her, at least), and also to make up for where the inferior weapon is unfamiliar.

Then she tries weaving in bits of LiliS powers to the combat drill: she has practiced this sort of thing countless times, shifting fluidly between illusions and limiting senses; supplementing strikes by riding the breeze.

So.......... how's that working out for her. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ next community upgrade, perhaps, for the merch.

even with an inferior weapon, it's not as if you haven't trained with weapons that needed better balancing or craft to them. it's easy enough to pick up where you need to compensate for the weight, to figure out how hard you'd need to swing it to do a lot of damage, or just a little.

but when you start calling on your LiliS powers—well, all you have to practice on with cutting senses is yourself, and it just doesn't... happen. trying to summon the Nightingale's breeze this time almost feels like a shock to your nerves, like you just touched something electrically-charged and had to pull your hand back.

it's all the powers you theoretically have at your disposal that seem to be on the fritz. maybe it's just the sheer distraction of liar hell, with its bright lights and constant blaring advertisements ("fabric so soft it feels like you've been touched by an angel!" "heaven answers those who believe! but for the rest of us, there's Nimbus Chocolatiers") but it doesn't feel like that's really the case. there's something wrong.

and you don't have too much time to figure out what, because someone does a double-take, running past the alley—several someones, in fact, in the professional attire of Imepro Security, and it's clear they're looking for you. ]

[worthathousand]

[ Oh come on, she hasn't even gotten to the good part. She's not sure what the "good part" is yet, but she didn't make it this far just to return empty handed. ]

Pasiap's gem-encrusted balls.

[ No children here; she can really use her full vocabulary of foul language—and apparently she needs it.

Amaranth takes a quick turn around the next corner. She just needs some café or shop; she'll go inside the first building with a door she can open. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ It's a sort of low-end convenience store, kind of like the "conbinis" that Tokyo-F has, now, but with much more cramped aisles, shelves packed close together with an assortment of food items and knick-knacks. the shop attendant, a young man in a canvas apron, looks up as you enter, clearly thinks about saying something, and then clams up, seeing a weapon.

security's in hot pursuit, and you're definitely outnumbered; there's three people following you, and you're not quite sure they missed you coming in here. there's a door labeled "staff only" at the back, and a bathroom, but otherwise there's not much else as far as places to look for a potential outlet. ]

[worthathousand]

[ She is, at this moment, grateful to Exael. Amaranth catches the young man's eye again, then gives a reassuring sort of smile. ]

Oh, I get kind of look a lot! [ voice airy ]
It's a great costume, right? I'm a professional impersonator—this is just a prop.

May I use this establishment's restroom?

[ ...she's already heading towards the back, though, aiming for the staff door. Hopefully that put him at ease, but she doesn't actually have time to wait for an answer. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ he sort of stammers something that sounds kind of like "yeah sure" and, well, there's the staff door, which is the kind that just swings in either direction on hinges rather than having any kind of handle.

there's a small table, for breaks, crammed in between some crates, a mini-fridge, and a small sink with a counter mostly occupied by a coffeepot producing kind of burnt-smelling coffee. there's one other door leading to the side. ]

[worthathousand]

[ Please, by Yu-Shan, let that be a door out...

She could always attempt to hide out if it isn't, but with security so hot on her heels, she doesn't like her chances trying to hide anywhere near here.

Through the next door, then— ]

[farfromgrace]

[ it's—

it's storage. it's a storage room and it's full of half-open boxes of packaged foods with sparkly wrappers (some cheerfully marked as "sinless") and it's almost certainly a dead end. and from what you can hear behind you, security's in the store.

you might need to make a stand. ]

[worthathousand]

Shit. Fuck. Bloody Empress.

[ Well, there'd been what, just the three of them? Putting it that way, it's almost insulting. Who did they think she was, honestly.

...It is a bit of a shame to be trapped in such a tight space. So she uses what are most likely her last few moments before she's found to go back out to the break room and push the table to the side, giving herself something closer to the space needed to properly take advantage of her naginata's range. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ you shove the table out of the way with a clatter, and clear more space just as the door slams inwards on its own, rattling against the wall.

the three people just outside are—maybe "people" is a strong word. one has feathered wings, another with white hair so bright it seems like it's shimmering, even tied back into a sensible bun. the third has shifting, glowing patterns beneath his skin. the second one speaks, sounding deeply emotionally tired: ]

"Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to return to the studio."

[worthathousand]

[ On the bright side, she's no longer insulted by the level of security the producers thought she merited. ]

I was just taking a walk. Meeting a few fans—it was a slow day at my transfer production, you know.

[ said cheerfully, still in her readied stance ]

Perhaps you should share your names? I don't recognize you from any show I know, and I'm sure we'd hate for there to be a misunderstanding.

[farfromgrace]

[ the one with the shifting glowing patterns beneath his skin rolls his eyes, and sort of like... pulls at some of the glowiness until what seems like a glowing whip appears in his hand.

...and the person with the glowing hair rolls their eyes. ]

"What, is this name-and-badge-number so you can complain to our bosses? Take it up with the director of security for all I care. Cam, Badge 357, if you really wanna talk to Ramiel by all means give him a call, but I don't recommend it."

/2

[worthathousand]

As it happens, I do have some complaints for him regarding our last meeting.

It's almost sad, though: that this is what you spirits have become. I wonder if this is what you all truly believe in.

[worthathousand]

[ but she doesn't wait for them to answer before springing forward: a feint to the right before sends the naginata left, past "Cam, Badge 357" and towards the whip user's glowing legs—

—an unbroken motion that continues (whether or not it connects) into a leaping arc; that spins and sends the blade down heavily at where the spirit's shoulder should be. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ The whip-user snaps his whip out, catching your wrist even as the blade cuts through fabric and embeds itself in the skin, blood like glow-in-the-dark paint spreading into the fabric; he grunts, but doesn't waste time in shaking another luminous whip out from his other hand, light beneath the skin congealing into something physical.

The winged member of the group, who up until now has looked slightly bored, sighs and snaps her fingers, and then suddenly a sharp ringing sound pierces the room, impossibly disorienting and even physically painful, although it only seems to affect you. ]

[worthathousand]

Tss—

[ an involuntary hiss of pain as the light digs into her wrist, but she grabs the glowing whip with her captured hand and gives it a yank, pulling its wielder in for a headbutt; then she shifts her grip on the naginata, pulling it free and driving the pommel into their stomach.

then the noise hits. she is trained enough to keep her naginata in guard position, but hopefully she has the whip user reeling, now, since she stumbles back, flinching. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ He seems to be a hardy sort, but yeah, getting headbutted isn't really something anyone finds pleasant; probably the only reason he didn't drop the whip is that each of them seems to literally extrude from his hands. ]

"Can we—wrap this up fast, thanks—?"

[ ...he also sounds deeply irritated, which is not surprising. the woman with the wings meets his eyes and kind of shrugs expression still cool, and without speaking makes a motion like she's ringing a handbell, which only makes the sound worse.

Meanwhile "Cam" has gone entirely glowy from head-to-toe, like they're made entirely of white light wearing a black security jacket, and has some sort of communication device you're not familiar with out. ]

"Yeah, this is 357, we've got her cornered. Would appreciate some backup just in case. Address is—"

[ They start rattling it off. Corner of bork and bork, you know. I'm not figuring out if hell has a grid system. ]

[worthathousand]

[ At this point she's fighting out of pure principle. (...Though, really, has she ever fought for anything else?)
She recovers her balance enough to go back to her "friendly" tone, even if she has to speak a bit through gritted teeth thanks to that sound. ]

What, are you not going to answer my question? I really do want to know.

[ She really does! But she also tries deafening herself for good measure. Come on—trying to pull the power towards her like she might the reins of an unruly horse.

Succeed or fail, though, she's charging towards the winged woman now, thrusting the naginata forward in a trio of strikes at her midsection. ]

[farfromgrace]

[ all trying to pull that power to yourself does is—give you that weird feeling like a mild electrical shock again. even so, you charge, tugging against the whip-user's bindings, and then—

The woman with the wings tilts her head, smiles, which looks mildly unpleasant on her face, and starts to sing, and despite your best intention, you just freeze, staggering to an abrupt halt.

This... might be a problem. ]